


The Past's Reflection

by Doctor_Discord



Series: The Ego Manor [111]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bing is a Sweetheart, Chronic Pain, Dark Regrets a Lot of Things, Discovery, Mechanics, Mirrors, Post-Betrayal, Regret, Relationship On the Mend, Resentment, Sign Language, The D.A. is Not Happy, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-26 01:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20733749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: Bing finds an old, broken, dusty mirror up in the attic, unaware ofwhois forced to call that mirror home. What happens when Bing teaches them how to communicate? What happens when the D.A. and Dark meet for the first time in nearly a century?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpiteFire_117](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiteFire_117/gifts).

“Hey Dark!”

Dark raised an eyebrow from where he lay on the couch. Silver’s relapse had caused a _bit_ of an uproar within him, his twin souls _screaming_ and _sobbing_ and causing his pain to spike to near _agonizing_ levels. Unwilling to lock himself away again (it had taken him two days to emerge from his office after the initial ‘event’, his shell shattered as his aura writhed), he’d opted to just rest on the couch for the day.

Bing came tearing around the corner, skidding to a halt and resting his arms on the back of the couch, staring down at Dark with a lopsided smile. “Hi. So. Eric asked me to make Midnight – have you _seen _her by the way, that bunny is one of the cutest ****ing things I’ve ever seen – Anyway, he asked me to make her some stuff and I need a _really _specific gear and I can’t find it _anywhere_ so I looked it up and _apparently_ it hasn’t been produced for like thirty years, we just had some because Oliver enjoys perusing the junkyard, but now we’re out and you wouldn’t happen to have some somewhere?”

Bing’s entire speech was said rapidly with one breath, and Dark had to pause a moment to comprehend what he was being asked, his pain not exactly making that easy for him. “Uhhh…you could check the attic. There might be something up there you can dismantle.”

Bing beamed, bouncing a little. “Thanks Dark!”

And he was off.

Bing took the stairs two at a time, faltering a bit as he passed Dr. Iplier’s office and heading toward the abandoned third floor. Dark didn’t like them going up there, but never explained _why_. Perhaps it had something to do with the two boarded-up rooms, fading and aged police tape still stuck to the doors. Everything was thick with dust, something black and smoky that resembled Dark’s aura leaking out beneath one of the blocked-off doors. In short, the third floor was _creepy_, and none of them minded Dark’s request (order) to avoid it.

Bing swallowed harshly as he raced across the floor, kicking up dust and climbing the last set of stairs to the attic. The attic was essentially the storage area, packed full of random items the egos – specifically Dark, Wilford, and the Jims – had amassed over the years. If Bing dug around long enough, he could probably find a dozen things belonging to every decade, going back who knows how long.

And it was a _treasure trove _for a mechanic geek like Bing.

He immediately began rummaging around in various boxes, picking apart old, outdated radios and phones and even an old boxset TV. Bing was having a _field day _carefully disassembling the relics, quickly finding the gear he needed (and several more), but he didn’t quite stop. Just in case something else popped up that might be useful. And, you know, that fact that he was in _heaven_.

Eventually, he ran out of things to pull apart in his general vicinity, so he stood. Attempting not to step on and crush any of the _highly _valuable materials he’d gathered, he stepped deeper into the attic, lifting his shades to rest on the top of his head to see a little better. Something in the back had caught his eye, something covered in a dusty sheet that _certainly_ had his curiosity piqued…

Stepping through the cluttered mess with an odd walk that would’ve made the Jims proud, Bing approached the sheet. He placed his hands on his hips, eyes flashing and making the dust glow, before he whipped off the sheet. His fans went _nuts_ in order to ward off the massive cloud of dust, and he squinted through said cloud. “What the Hell?” He ran a finger over the object, collecting more dust. “Why would Dark keep an old mirror up here?” He crouched down, wiping a hand across the glass, and raised an eyebrow. “An old _broken_ mirror.”

He shrugged, and for no other reason than _why not_ and curiosity as to why this thing hadn’t been thrown out years ago, he set about cleaning the mirror, wiping and blowing away the dust as best he could, till he could see the ornate wooden frame and the shattered glass. He tilted his head to the side, a curious frown on his face. “I wonder why you’re up here…”

As he spoke, staring into his reflection, something…_strange_ began to happen. The shadows in the bottom right corner of the reflection began to shift, slowly sliding across the floor. Something cold ran down Bing’s spine, and he glanced over his shoulder, swallowing hard when he spotted nothing out of the ordinary. He glanced back at the mirror, and promptly let out a startled shriek, falling backwards into a box when he saw the _figure _pressed against the glass, staring at him.

Bing’s legs kicked out wildly as he fought to disentangle himself from the box and its contents. He looked back at the mirror, eyes wide and glowing. The figure was still there, just a blank, black silhouette of shadow, no distinguishing features. Bing swallowed, creeping closer, though by all means keeping his distance. He tilted his head again, and the figure mimicked him, hands pressed against the glass of the largest fragment. Looking closer, Bing could see the same shadowy silhouette in _every _shard, staring back at him.

He swallowed again, still keeping back and crouched low. “Uh…hi?”

The figure righted their head, then waved.

Bing inched closer. “Are you…how many of you are there?”

The figure held up a single finger.

Bing nodded, more to himself than anything. “Right, okay, that’s just the glass then. Um. You’re not…gonna hurt me in some way?” The figure shook their head, and Bing raised an eyebrow. “Wait, _can_ you even hurt me?”

Again, the figure shook their head, and Bing moved closer still, sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror. “Can you…leave the mirror?” Yet again, the figure shook their head, and Bing couldn’t help the pang of sympathy. “So, you’re just…stuck?” They nodded, and he inched closer, running a hand over the frame. “How did you get to be like this?”

They shrugged, and Bim narrowed his eyes. “Shrug as in ‘I don’t know’ or shrug as in ‘Too complicated to explain with my limited communication’?”

The figure held up two fingers, and Bing smiled. “Second option, gotcha. So…do you know how _long_ you’ve been stuck like this? Judging by all the dust, I’d say a while.”

The figure hesitated for a moment, then began counting numbers on their hands, and Bing squinted at them, trying to decipher it. “One…nine…two…five. So like…seventeen? Seventeen what?” They shook their head, and Bing frowned. “Not seventeen, okay then, hold up, what if I…” He summoned his holographic screen, inputting the numbers, and almost instantly his eyes shot wide, glancing back up to face them. “Hold up, you don’t mean _1925_, do you? As in, the year?” The figure nodded, and Bing dismissed his screen, one hand reaching up to tear at his hair. “Dude, that was almost a hundred years ago! You…” His hand dropped, and his posture sagged. “You must be so lonely.”

The figure paused for a moment before nodding slowly, hands sliding from the glass, and Bing sighed. “Now I’m really curious to know how you got like this. It’s too bad you can’t seem to talk.” Slowly, his face brightened as an idea struck him. “But…maybe I can fix that! You know what sign language is, right? Like talking with your hands?” The figure nodded again, thought this time seemingly a little apprehensive as Bing bounced excitedly in place. “I could teach it to you! I’m fluent in like every language, perks of being a robot I guess, but then you could actually communicate! Wanna give it a shot?”

They nodded eagerly, and Bing clapped his hands excitedly. “Great! So, where –”

“_Bing! What’s taking you so long?_”

Bing groaned at the sound of Dark’s voice shouting up at him, oblivious to the figure’s flinch. “Well, there goes that. I have to go apparently. But I’ll be back! Tomorrow! I promise!”

The figure pressed up against the glass again as Bing stood, and he got that distinct impression that they were pleading him to stay. He offered them a smile, trailing his fingers along the glass while mindful of the breaks. “I _promise_, I’ll be back.”

Bing gathered the parts he’d gutted and raced back down the stairs, but not before shooting the figure in the mirror one last smile. When he got back down to the first floor, he found Dark leaning against the stair railing, cane in hand. His pain was written in every line of his face, his expression tight, but beneath it all Bing thought he saw something akin to _panic_. “What were you doing up there?”

Bing gave him a sheepish smile, hefting his armful of parts. “Sorry. I…got carried away. What’s up?”

Dark visibly relaxed, though not by much, smiling a little through his grimace. “Nothing. I was just…concerned. Go do whatever you were planning on doing with all that…_stuff_.”

Bing gave him a smile and a wink, and Dark turned away. Bing headed back up the stairs, toward the Google Office, with an odd feeling prickling at the back of his skull. Why didn’t he tell Dark about the mirror? That was a pretty important thing, discovering a near century old possessed mirror was sitting in their attic. But…

Somehow, he had a feeling Dark already knew about them.

And that he wouldn’t be happy Bing discovered them.


	2. Chapter 2

Bing spent the next few days sneaking back up to the attic whenever he could, teaching the figure how to communicate and generally spending time with them. He wanted to wait until they had enough vocabulary before he began interrogating them, and they were picking it up surprisingly fast, no doubt spurred on by decades of loneliness and an inability to express themselves. They’d had to improvise a bit, considering they were literally a shadow and not three-dimensional, but they made it work. It was a bit difficult slipping past Google – who could read him like a book – and Dark – who was keeping a close eye on him for some reason. But, he managed, and things were going well. And he finally felt they knew enough to explain some things.

Currently, he was sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror, Peggy purring in his lap as one hand idly stroked down her back. He grinned. “You ready?” The figure nodded, and Bing shifted a little. “Okay, first question; do you have a name?”

The figure tilted their head to the side, lifting their hands from the glass and began to shakily sign. _“It’s been so long…I don’t remember anymore. But, I remember a nickname. Part of one. I was an attorney. A…”_

The stopped, banging a fist against the glass in frustration before simply signing the letter ‘D’. Bing tilted his head, stilling his movement of petting Peggy (much to her annoyance). “A District Attorney?”

The figure quickly became excited. _“Yes! A District Attorney. The D.A. That’s what they called me. Well, that’s what Damien called me.”_

Bing raised an eyebrow. “Who’s Damien?”

The D.A. tilted their head. _“The one who called you back when you first discovered me. That was his voice.”_

“Oh! You mean Dark?”

They righted themselves. _“Yes, I suppose he wouldn’t go by that name anymore. Not after…”_

Bing narrowed his eyes as they stopped again, scratching behind Peggy’s ears. “After what?” He hesitated, voice soft. “Does this have something to do with how you got stuck here?”

The D.A. nodded. _“It’s…complicated. In short, I died. Damien did, too, and his sister, Celine. They were…waiting for me. When I died. They said they could bring me back. That they could bring all three of us back. They just needed my permission, my…body. And they did it. Broke something along the way, but we were back. But it was…off. Three souls in one body is…a lot, and there was…something else, whispering in my ear, but not _to _me…to _them_. We looked in the mirror, and suddenly it broke and I was staring out at them as they walked away with _my _body. You called them Dark? Well, a couple days later, Dark locked me up in here. Covered me up. And here I’ve been. For 94 years apparently.”_

Bing’s eyes were wide, core stuttering oddly. “Um.” He cleared his throat. “Two things about that: one, you’re telling me Dark is almost a hundred years old?”

_“Nearly 130, if you go by the ages of Damien and Celine and not the date they were smashed together.”_

Bing nodded. “Right, so, and two; the body he’s been walking around in for nearly a century isn’t even his? It’s _yours?_” The D.A. nodded, and Bing let out a strained little laugh, tearing at his hair, and Peggy glanced up at him from his lap, blinking owlishly. “I mean, he’s always referred to himself weirdly. Saying things like ‘this body’ instead of ‘my body’ or something. I just thought it was because he was, well, _weird_, and old-fashioned. Especially when he hurts. You know, chronic pain. We just thought it was because he’s old.”

_“I’m not surprised he hurts. I died because I was shot in the stomach and pushed over the second-floor railing. They’re literally piloting a dead, broken shell with nothing but sheer willpower.”_

Bing swallowed harshly, nodding to himself. He scooped Peggy into his arms, getting shakily to his feet. “I…need a moment to process this. I’ll be back, but just –”

He left without another word, letting Peggy drop to the floor once he reached the second floor, and instead of continuing down he stormed Dark’s office, throwing the doors open with the _need_ to hear from Dark himself if everything the D.A. had said was true.

Dark jumped a mile when he entered, swearing under his breath as his pen skidded across the paper he was working on. Bing didn’t quite care, shades slipping down his nose as he tore at his hair, not quite facing Dark’s desk. Dark raised an eyebrow. “Bing? What –”

“So I just learned something interesting.” Bing spun to face him, one hand still fisted tight in his hair with the other now resting on his hip. He smiled, a delirious little smile. “Apparently, what I’m looking at right now isn’t your real body. You _stole _it.” Dark’s eyes shot wide, his form splitting and his aura stilling with shock, but Bing kept going. “_Apparently_, you tricked it from its rightful owner, someone who was supposed to be your _friend!_ And _apparently_, your name isn’t even Dark! Or should I say _names?_”

A few golden-orange tears began trailing down his face as he gestured wildly, and when he was finished, Dark stood slowly, taking a cautious step toward him. “Bing, I don’t know where you’re getting this from, but –”

Bing cringed away from him, shaking his head. “No, don’t come near me! I can’t – Is _anything_ you’ve ever told us true? Because, frankly, I don’t think I can trust someone when their whole identity is a _lie_.”

Dark stepped closer still, Bing matching him step for step. “Bing, please, I don’t know who told you this, but you need to let me explain –”

“Explain _what_,” Bing snapped. “That you’re a _thief_. A _coward_. You _buried_ them! In the attic! You left them up there to _suffer_ instead of owning up to what you _did!_ You don’t need to explain _anything_ to me, I think I’ve got the picture!”

At Bing’s words, Dark froze completely, and expression Bing could only label as grief and guilt crossing over his face. “The…the D.A.…You mean they’re still _up there?_ I thought…I thought they would’ve moved on by now…with no body…”

Bing’s lips curled up in a snarl. “_Yeah_, they’re still up there! Trapped in that mirror! They’ve been alone and buried and _forgotten _for nearly a _century! _And _you don’t care!_”

Dark shook his head. “I never said that –”

“You didn’t _have_ to,” Bing spat. “You never even bothered to check. You’re too _ashamed_, aren’t you?”

Dark’s arms dropped to his sides, standing stock still, and Bing’s anger cooled slightly when he saw the tears beginning to trail down his face, his images flickering at his sides. “…Yes. You’re right.” He swallowed. “So…that past few days…that’s what you’ve been doing whenever you sneak off? You’ve been going up to see them?”

Bing nodded, crossing his arms. “They can’t talk. They’re more or less just a shadow, stuck in the reflection. I’ve been teaching them sign language so we could talk. Today was when we decided to test out if they were fluent enough.”

Dark gave a strained laugh, bowing his head and his hands clenching into fists for a brief moment, not bothering to wipe away his tears. “I suppose they are.” He glanced back up at Bing. “Do they…hate me?”

Bing raised an eyebrow. “I think once upon a time, yes, but now…now they’re just _sad_. They’re desperate for contact. They freak whenever I leave.”

Dark’s shoulders slumped. “Would you…mind leading me up there? And acting as translator?”

Bing huffed, arms still crossed, but spun on his heel all the same. “Come on.”

He was still fuming as he led Dark up the stairs. He raised another eyebrow when the black shadow leaking from beneath one of the boarded-up room gravitated toward Dark, mingling indistinguishably with his aura, and Dark visibly shuddered. “What else did the D.A. tell you?”

Bing shrugged. “Not much else. That you hurt so much because they died _brutally_, like seriously.” Dark gave a nervous laugh at that, rubbing the back of his neck. “…And that your names are Damien and Celine, apparently.”

Dark’s images had yet to merge back with him, and at the sound of those names they flickered madly. Bing ignored it for the time being in favor of stepping into the attic, racing toward the mirror. The D.A. was pressed against the glass as always, but for once they weren’t focused on him.

They were too busy staring at Dark with enough rage it was palpable even without a single feature to express it with.

Dark made an odd choking noise in the back of his throat once he spotted them, his images still flickering and making him glow strangely in the dark attic. He moved hesitantly closer, till he was standing before the mirror, and then dropped to his knees, placing one hand against the glass. The D.A. began signing furiously, and Dark glanced toward Bing. “What are they saying?”

Bing snorted. “Unless you want to hear a near constant stream of my obnoxious censor, I’ll refrain.”

Dark gave a tiny laugh. “That’s fair.” He turned back the mirror. The D.A. had stopped signing, and the two simply stared at each other, tears still rolling silently down Dark’s face. At last, the D.A. lifted their hands again, signing shakily, and Bing translated.

_“Why did you leave me?”_

Dark gave them a sad, half-smile, resting his forehead against the glass. “I’m afraid Bing nailed it on the head with that one. I was…ashamed. When I –” He glanced at Bing. “When _we_ took this body from you…It wasn’t necessarily in our control. We were _furious_. With everything. We wanted revenge. And, even though you were only in here with us for a short time, I am _sure_ you felt the…the _something else_ that’s in here with us. It fed our hurt, our rage. So we left you. And once we’d calmed, well…we locked you away. Unable to bear the facts of what we’d done.”

The D.A. was ‘silent’ for a moment, then flipped Dark off. Bing burst into laughter. “I don’t think you need me to translate that one.”

Dark laughed, lifting his forehead from the mirror. “Yes well, that was well-deserved.” The D.A. tilted their head, then pointed at Dark’s hand, the one that was folded in his lap, signing something else. Dark looked to Bing questioningly.

Bing smiled a little. “Asking about your ring, man.”

Dark’s eyes widened, glancing down at his hand, at the ring. “Oh! Um.” He laughed a little, shifting his other hand from the mirror to rub at the back of his neck. Again, he glanced at Bing warily. “You remember Wil, yes? Well, not by that name you won’t. Back then…he still went by the Colonel.” Bing’s jaw dropped, and the D.A. nodded. Dark smiled fondly down at his ring. “We got married. About three months now.”

The D.A. hands began to move, and Bing snorted. “Commenting on how your – Damien’s – pining was obvious. And how Wilford was even more obvious with Celine. In other words, they’re not surprised.”

Dark laughed, and it turned into a sigh, his images flickering again. For a brief moment, Bing thought they looked…_different_, but the effect was gone before he could even blink. Dark turned back to Bing, looking a little…sheepish. “That being said, could you…teach me? The sign language.”

Bing raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Are you going to actually come up here then?”

Dark smiled. “No. I have a better idea.”

The next time Bing stepped into Dark’s office, the mirror had a new home above his office doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooooh! I love this story, this was requested a long time ago by SpiteFire_117, so I hope you enjoyed it! :D  
Anyway, Sunday is another more Marvin-centric one! And also another 'Bim Fucks Up at Magic' one! See you then!
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com!


End file.
